


When The Fire Nation Attacked

by Use_your_glutes



Series: But You Can't Blame Me [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, emo trinity - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Fire, Gen, It's all in good fun, Joe deserved it, Magic, Patrick being kinda mean but not really, Supernatural - Freeform, pyrokinesis, very mild, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Use_your_glutes/pseuds/Use_your_glutes
Summary: "Patrick Stump was a pretty normal guy for all intensive purposes, well, he was awkward and a total nerd that hid behind his strange clothing choices. But really, with the exception of his amazing voice, he was quite normal. Well that’s what his band thought anyway, and it wasn’t like Patrick was actively trying to hide his a little less than normal talent, it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet…"In which Patrick Stump is a smol Pryokinetic boi, and uses his ability to fuck with people and win impossible bets.Set through 2002-2005This is a small preciser to a larger fic set in 2017, but I got distracted and wrote this for context.





	1. 2002

**Author's Note:**

> So I was writing a fic where Patrick is a vampire set when Mania was being recorded the first time around in like April. But there were so many little plot holes, so I decided to write this little bit of kinda crack to fill them in. It can be read separately from the other fic as this came first and has nothing to do with vampires though, and you know the other fic is nowhere near finished yet.

Patrick Stump was a pretty normal guy for all intensive purposes, well, he was awkward and a total nerd that hid behind his strange clothing choices. But really, with the exception of his amazing voice, he was quite normal. Well that’s what his band thought anyway, and it wasn’t like Patrick was actively trying to hide his a little less than normal talent, it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet…

 

-2002-

 

They were all sitting outside the small venue they’d just played at, Andy was yet to join the band full time, but it was looking more and more like he was going to as he continued to fill for them. It was a relatively warm night for a Chicago October and they’d all decided to chill outside for a bit before they packed everything away into their trailer; they’d been kicked out of the basement they’d played in somewhere around 2am and now had all their gear spread around them on the sidewalk. It probably looked ridiculous from anyone else’s perspective, but for them it was a welcome respite.

Joe had been fiddling around with a cigarette for a while before he decided to light it, but when he dug into his pocket to retrieve his lighter he found it smashed and all the lighter fluid having leaked out and evaporated from his clothes. He stared at it despondently and let out a sad huff as he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting a nicotine hit anytime soon.

“What’s up?” Andy asked from beside him when he heard Joe’s huff and turned to look at him.

“Lighter’s fucked.” He sighed sadly, words slightly muffled by the cigarette still held between his lips.

“Sucks… perhaps it’s the universe sending you a message.” Andy sympathised then offered, he only received other sigh and the falling of Joe’s shoulders as a reply.

As Joe looked distantly into his lap a thought occurred to Patrick, he could light it, though he hadn’t actually told the guys about his pyrokinetic tendencies yet. But Joe had played great through their set and didn’t deserve to be deprived of a smoke. Patrick debated with himself for a moment before deciding and forming a plan. He didn’t have to tell them, no, he could just light it and act as surprised as the others, then, he could use his ability as a means to fuck with his band. Pete was always pulling things over on him and it would be a nice change to turn the tables, how it hadn’t occurred to him to do this earlier he didn’t know…

So as Joe was about to lower the cigarette from his mouth, Patrick ignited it; it came as naturally as walking, a semi-subconscious thought that barely registered as the objective was fulfilled and Joe’s cigarette burst into life.

“What the fuck?!” Joe exclaimed with a jolt as sparks and embers lifted up off the end of the cigarette still held between his lips.

“Oh my God… did that just… did that just spontaneously combust?!” Pete asked, voice filled with astonishment. Joe removed it from his mouth and held it between two fingers, the end glowing red as the embers slowly burnt through the tobacco.

“Guess the universe wasn’t done sending its message…”  Andy said quietly, he’d gone slightly pale from shock and just stared at the roll up in Joe’s hand, _what the fuck_?

“Should I… I mean… do you think it’s safe to smoke it?” Joe asked as he turned it around in his hand and inspected it. Patrick just watched in amusement and tried to keep his expression as flat as possible, he really wished he’d thought to do this earlier.

“Probably… maybe… I don’t know.” Pete replied with an almost frustrated and alarmed sigh, who the hell knew if it was safe or not? Joe eyed it suspiciously, then moved it to his mouth and inhaled cautiously, taking a long, slow drag and then waiting for something horrible to happen. When nothing horrific came and he exhaled with a shape huff, he returned to eyeing it suspiciously.

“I mean… you didn’t just burst into flames so, I guess its ok…” Andy didn’t sound sure of his own words as he continued to stare with worried eyes. Joe’s eyes widened slightly and he let out an almost inaudible gasp.

“What if I’m magic…” He half whispered in a horrified tone as he stared at the cigarette held in front of him.

Patrick couldn’t handle that, it was all he could do to hold back the bark of laughter that was trying quite desperately to burst free from his throat.

He was definitely going to have to pull stuff like this more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have most of the chapters finished and one still in plan for this, I should post pretty regularly. this is probably one of the shortest fics I've ever written and even then it's longer than intended. but I hope you like it, comments would be nice.


	2. 2003

 

Much to Patrick’s disappointment, after the _‘cigarette incident’_ as it was now famously known; he hadn’t had the opportunity to mess with his band again. But tonight, tonight was the night, a pretty vicious looking winter storm was going to hit Chicago in the late afternoon, and local news and authorities had warned of wide spread power outages throughout the night. And as soon as he heard the radio presenter warn of the bad weather, he hatched a plan.

“We should just stock up on candles and play board games all night.” Patrick had said idly to the guys as they all sat around lazily in their living room, two days before the storm was due to hit.

“What?” Joe asked and met Patrick’s gaze with a confused expression.

“For the storm, powers probably going to go out so we might as well make a night out of it.” Patrick explained and lent back into the sofa causally.

“That’s not a half bad idea.” Andy agreed, he was staying with the guys for a little while, for a reason he wasn’t quite sure of, but being stuck in an apartment with them all night without power and nothing to do wasn’t something he cared to experience.

“Does it have to be candles; I mean we could just get some battery lanterns.” Joe proposed warily.

“Dude it’s not gonna happen again.” Pete laughed at Joe’s obvious worries over the presence of fire, he’d barely smoked anything since the _incident_ in fear of more weird stuff happening. Joe just glared at Pete angrily.

“ _One_ :” Patrick started in fake seriousness. “Batteries run out of power, _two_ : they’re way more expensive and we can hardly afford food, _and three_ : don’t be an idiot.” Joe just glared in return at that.

“I’m not being an idiot.” He pretested, which just received giggles from the other three.

“So I’ll get candles and stuff after work tomorrow, maybe some food if the dollar store has anything decent.” Patrick proposed after the giggling and glaring from Joe had died down.  

“Sounds like a plan.”

_~le time skip~_

With as many candles as Patrick could feasibly carry home from the store now strategically placed around the apartment, board games and all the vegan snacks the four of them could gather. They were ready for the storm. Patrick had been given the day off because of aforementioned bad weather and had all day to figure out exactly what he was going to do, and although many elaborate plans flew through his mind, he decided to keep it as simple as possible.

The storm gradually picked up pace throughout the afternoon and by 8pm it might as well have been the end of the world outside; wind, snow, and hail pelted onto every surface it could reach with an enormous and continuous crash. An unrelenting and intrusive attack of the elements that anyone who didn’t grow up with storms like this one would find terrifying. But the boys were used to such weather fronts, so as the lights flickered occasionally and the TV momentarily lost signal they simply ignored it.

They’d already lit a few candles around the room in preparation for when the power did eventually go out, a pillar candle among the many on the coffee table, and several tea lights in jam jars on the floor marking doorframes. By Patrick’s estimates there were at least 60 candles in the living room and kitchen, and he really hoped that he was accurate enough to light them all and not set fire to the apartment.

Just as Patrick was mentally recounting where each candle was placed, a sudden and large gust of wind careered into the building and violently shook the windows, two seconds later the room was plunged into semi candle lit darkness.

Four disappointed sighs filled room as after a few more seconds the lights didn’t return.

“Guess I’ll get the matches then.” Andy sighed and stood up, but before he’d even stretched his legs all the candles in the apartment lit themselves. Filling the room with a warm flickering glow that only severed to comfort Patrick; there was a moment of tense silence and held breath before Joe pulled in a harsh breath.

“It happened again.” He whispered quickly in panicked disbelief and looked around the room with wild eyes, only made wilder by the flames reflecting in them.

“IT HAPPENED AGAIN, I TOLD YOU, I FUCKING TOLD YOU.” He yelled as he jumped to his feet and spun around frantically, desperately searching for something, anything that might have caused all the candles to suddenly light themselves just as the power cut out.

Pete and Andy looked around the room in disbelief, flames shining off their eyes in the same manner as Joe’s, Patrick just tried to keep as straight a face as possible.

“There’s no way…” Andy breathed out, voice quiet and unsure as he looked around the apartment, a candle stood on nearly every surface and filled the main living area with almost as much light as the ceiling light had. The storm continued its harsh assault outside, but the deafening silence that had fallen over the apartment easily drowned it out into the background.

“This is a joke right... candles don’t just… they don’t just spontaneously light themselves…” Pete asked, voice shaky with shock and confusion.

“Unless…” Patrick said carefully, trying his very best to sound freaked out instead of amused, and looked at Joe whose eyes somehow got wider.

“No… no way… whatever you’re insinuating… _no way_.” Joe stuttered out desperately, wringing his hands through his hair and fidgeting anxiously.

“Joe just…” Andy started but didn’t really have anything that might reassure him, this whole thing was insane and Andy was a man or reason and logic, two things that seemed to have taken a vacation from their apartment.

“I’m going to bed.” Joe said suddenly, a strong air of finality in his voice as he turned to his door and walked through it, slamming it shut behind him.

“Personally.” Pete started after a few minutes of stunned silence. “If I could suddenly control fire, I’d have so much with it.”

“And be a convicted arsonist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments would be very nice :)


	3. two weeks later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter, but the whole thing is supposed to be short so, I think I'm doing pretty well considering I always end up writing way more words then I mean to.

Andy had gone home two days after what was now known as the ‘candle incident’, he and the others had tried to talk to Joe about what had happened, trying to find explanation and reason; but every time they’d breached the subject, Joe had simply left the room, or the entire apartment. And after Andy went back up to Milwaukee, Pete and Patrick just let Joe live in ignorance, well, Pete did, Patrick just started planning his next attack.   

The three of them were sitting around the table on their roof/balcony; it was a surprisingly warm day for a Chicago February so they had decided to make the most of it and sit outside for once. And by warm, they meant it wasn’t below freezing… They were chatting idly, Patrick spinning a drum stick around in his hand and Joe fiddling with a cigarette. Patrick had had plenty of opportunities over the past two weeks to fuck with Joe, because that’s what it was now, _the fuck with Joe show_.  But he hadn’t taken any of them, deciding that too much too soon would take away the shock of it, thereby making it less entertaining for him.

And sure, Patrick had felt bad about freaking Joe out so much, but then there was the small incident surrounding his bedroom door and the now rather large hole in it, and he’d found it kind of hard to feel bad after that.

He eyed the cigarette Joe was rolling between his fingers, he hadn’t apologised for destroying his door yet, in fact the last time Patrick had brought it up Joe had just laughed about how funny it was. Patrick felt a buzz of childish _fuck you_ run though him, and in a burst of impulsiveness, lit Joe’s cigarette.

Unbeknown to Patrick, Pete had been staring directly at him as he’d lit Joe’s cigarette, watched as a weird light flashed in Patrick’s eyes and a mischievous and satisfied smile crept onto his face. With a furrowed brow, Pete looked to Joe to find his cigarette burning between his fingers.

So, it was Patrick doing this…

“Hey Joe.” Pete said to catch is attention, Joe had been completely unaware of anything that had just happened, having spent the last five minutes staring at the trees between the apartment buildings as they were moved by the wind. 

“Yeah?” He asked and looked at Pete.

“Can’t say I noticed you lighting that, dude.” Pete said warily, knowing full well how Joe was going to react.

“Wha-“ Joe stopped dead when he saw the red embers at the end of his is roll up, eyes going wide with horror. He didn’t say anything, just stubbed it out with far more force than necessary into the metal table and then stood up and walked back inside, closing the patio door far gentler than either Patrick or Pete would have expected.

Pete narrowed his eyes at Patrick, who was biting his lips to hold back laughter.

“What?” Patrick laughed out when he noticed Pete staring.

“Nothing.” Pete said slyly after a brief pause, then stood up and joined Joe inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the first two were written a little while ago, the next one isn't written yet, but the one after that is and the last chapter is like half done, but it's a little bit longer than the others so I might split it in two.  
> I should really be writing Chicago Doesn't Have A Vampire Problem, but this one is in the forefront of my mind right now, I gotta get it out. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always nice if you'd like to leave one :)


	4. more 2003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's been a long time since I posted, I had real bad writters block with this chapter. I ended up writing most of this in Starbucks believe it or not, it seems to bring back my muse for some reason. So this chapter probably cost me about £10 to write. It's a little longer than the two previous chapters so I hope that makes up for the wait.
> 
> Also, the tags may say mild angst, but I'd say there was a least moderate angst in this chapter, anyway, enjoy!

 

It had been a week and a half since Patrick’s last attack, and a week and a half since Pete had figured him out. Pete was determined to catch him again, and to figure out how much he was capable of, or why he was even messing with Joe in the first place. The thought of telling Patrick that he knew about it, or even to tell Joe that he wasn’t going insane hadn’t even crossed his mind though. The whole thing was just far to entertaining for him.

It was morning, well 11:45am, when everyone seemed to gather in the kitchen at the same time to get something to eat. Joe was, externally, still in denial that any of this was happening, internally though, he was freaking out on a major level. Because it had happened three times now, and twice was just coincidence, but three times, that was a pattern; and Joe just wasn’t ready to deal with what that meant. So denial, yes, pretend everything is fine and then pretend it doesn’t happen when it inevitably happens again.

“Morning Joe.” Pete mumbled through a mouthful of cereal as he lent against the counter, Patrick had his head in the fridge looking for something but waved a good morning to Joe anyway.

“Landlord called yesterday.” Joe said absently as he went about making toast.

“What’d he say?”  Patrick asked as he removed his head from the fridge with a very old jar of jam in his hand.

“That he’s coming to fix your door tomorrow, and that he’s putting it on the rent.” Joe answered without looking up from the toaster.

“Whose rent, ours collectively or just mine?” Patrick asked dubiously, knowing that it was almost certainly going on his and his rent alone.

“Just yours probably, it’s your door.” Joe said casually as he watched the toaster, well… toast.

“Obviously.” Patrick grumbled as he spread jam on his own toast, then smirked to himself as Joe yelped in shock at his toast, that was now in flames in the toaster.

Patrick looked up to see Pete yanking the power cord out of the wall and throw their very damp and gross tea towel over the toaster while Joe just stared.

“Guess the toasters faulty.” Joe mumbled meekly.

“Guess so… or you’re just cursed.” Patrick offered conversationally as he took a bite of his toast and lent against the counter. He saw Pete grin slightly at his comment as he lifted the tea towel off the toaster and pushed the bread up, to reveal mildly singed but perfectly edible toast. Joe’s eyes went wide for a second but quickly returned to denial as he looked to glare at Patrick.

“Or it’s just bad luck and you’re stupid.” He retorted with a hint of irritation to his voice, Patrick couldn’t blame him though, he _was_ being a complete dick.

“Piss off any wizards lately?” Pete asked casually but only received another glare from Joe.

“Just for that, I’m taking this.” Joe said and grabbed Pete’s bowl of cereal and left the room with a huff.

“That was the last milk.” Pete sighed out in honest to god heartbreak as he looked at the toaster and slightly burnt toast.

“And the last cereal…”

“Suck it up, sunshine.” Patrick laughed mockingly and patted Pete on the back patronisingly as he walked past him and out of the kitchen.

“Don’t call me sunshine.” Pete yelled as he went to get a plate for his sad fire toast.

~~~

Patrick’s shenanigans continued through the year, never escalating into anything dangerous, but he continued nonetheless.

It became a joke among their friends that Joe was cursed, as things around him would just spontaneously combust. Sometimes Patrick would do it for fun, sometimes for dramatic effect, and sometimes just to freak Joe out when he was being a dick.

There had been several memorable moments that Pete had witnessed, all the while keeping his mouth shut.

There had been the incident where Joe and Andy had been arguing about something in the apartment one night, no one could remember what had started it, but it had ended in a yelling match. Pete and Patrick had just sat there and watched in slight shock, Joe and Andy never argued, let alone yelled, they were chill dudes. So when Joe pulled back his arm to punch Andy in the face, Patrick, in a sudden fit of inspiration, blow all the light bulbs in the living room. Showering the four boys with burning hot glass and sparks; Patrick, being as fire retardant as he was didn’t even flinch when the glass met his bare skin, but the others yelled in both shock and pain. Though the damage with minimal, a few tiny welts in their arms, but it was nothing some aloe couldn’t fix. That one had gone on the list of Dramatic Effect.

The lighting of cigarettes continued, the burning of toast, mail that more often than not Joe was reading when Patrick decided to ignite it. But little things, never anything to big in case it got out of control. Not that Patrick had ever lost control of a fire before, but there was always the possibility.

Joe had become pretty much desensitised by the end of the year, no longer freaked out and scared, but more mildly irritated and inconvenienced by it. It had become almost a party trick, with Joe being introduced by casual friends as Fire Boy. He’d even picked up a girl with it when she’s asked for a light and her cigarette just lit up in front of her, it wasn’t the reaction that Patrick was arming for, but hey, he’d put Joe through a lot, he could have that one.

It was late November when Pete finally broke his silence, with Patrick that is, not Joe. Patrick thought he was home alone, and he really wanted toast, only problem being that after his last Fire Toast™ escapade the week before, the toaster had finally given up and stopped working.

But he really wanted toast, and he was home alone, right? So he grabbed two slices of bread and laid them out on the counter, then lazily held his open hand over the toast and let it heat up. Honestly, it was way more affect than the toaster, and after he’d flipped them and toasted them on both sides he turned around to the fridge to get butter and jam.

“Nice trick you got there.” Pete said casually from the doorway as Patrick turned around.

“Jesus fuck!” Patrick yelled in shock as he jumped out of his skin (could you imagine if that actually happened, how horrifying would that be) and stared at Pete as he lent against the doorframe lazily.

“How long have you been there?” He asked breathlessly and swallowed down the sudden anxiety that had taken up residence in his throat.

“Long enough, and I’ve known it was you screwing with Joe since like, February.” Pete answered. “And by all means, don’t stop at my admission, it’s hilarious.”

“You’re not like, freaked out or anything.” Patrick asked sceptically.

“Not really, everything you do is unexplainable… why not add magic to the list.” Pete mused and stood up away from the doorframe. “Why Joe though?”

Patrick stood still for a moment, just staring at Pete dumbfounded that he was so unfazed by Patrick’s secret.

“I… He put a hole in my door.” He finally answered, a tone of petty bitterness held in his voice. Pete barked out a loud laugh at Patrick’s reasoning, at how childish and silly it was.

“Such a Taurus.” Pete wheezed out through laughter.

“Really Pete?... Astrology?”  Patrick asked, sounding disappointed and possibly a little bit ashamed that Pete would believe in star signs.

“You’re the one that sets shit on fire with your mind or whatever, why can’t Astrology be real?!” Pete barked back in amused exasperation, and only laughed harder when he saw the disappointed and judging look on Patrick’s face.

“He does what now?” Joe asked from behind Pete, causing both men to jump in shock, and for Pete to only laugh loader; neither men having hard Joe come in through the front door due to Pete’s raucous laughter.

“I…” Patrick muttered and locked eyes with Joe, who locked mildly furious.

“Oh buddy.” Pete laughed out. “Have fun with this one.” And promptly left the room.

“What was Pete talking about?” Joe asked pointedly and Patrick felt his skin heat up under Joe’s stare. His secret was out, and Joe looked pissed.

“Patrick.” Joe warned, a demanding look in his eye.

“Well… I’ve kinda… I was the one that…” Patrick stuttered and looked down at his feet anxiously, unable to find the right words to explain himself, suddenly feeling very bad about what he’d been doing, but mainly he was scared of how Joe was going to react.

“Patrick’s Pyrokinetic!” Pete yelled through from the living room. “He’s been fucking with you for like a year!”

Patrick risked a glance at Joe, and was met with furious eyes boring into him. There was a long and painful silence between the two before Joe finally spoke.

“Prove it.” Joe demanded suddenly, voice hard but empty of emotion.

“What?” Patrick asked quietly, not sure how to react.

“Go on,” Joe waved his hands dramatically, voice still hard and demanding as Pete appeared behind him in the doorway. “Prove it was you.”

“I…” Patrick mumbled again.

“Fucking prove it!” Joe demanded angrily, voice raised slightly and spite creeping into his voice.

Patrick just stared wide eyed at Joe, feeling incredibly small and exposed in their small kitchen. He blinked a few times as he tried to regain his composure.

“Come on, I’m waiting.” Joe spat.

Patrick looked at him, and then, against his better his better judgement unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and rolled it up and away from his wrist. Holding his hand lazily in the air in front of him, he let flames erupt from his palm and engulf his entire hand.

“That good enough?” He asked weakly and closed his hand around the fire, extinguishing it.

“Holy shit.” Pete whispered with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I guess.” Patrick muttered and looked back down at his feet.

“You’re an asshole.” Joe deadpanned, Patrick looked up and met Joe’s eyes again, seeing the hate and betrayal burning in his irises.

“Joe I’m…” He tried but Joe cut him short.

“Shut up... just… shut up! You can’t just apologise and… and expect me to suddenly forgive you!... an entire fucking year, Patrick, what the fuck!?”  He yelled quite rightfully so, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Joe.” Patrick tried again but Joe wasn’t done.

“I thought I was going mad, or that I was fucking cursed, but no, it was just you being a complete asshole with your freaky magic shit!” He yelled, and Patrick only felt smaller.

“Joe, just…” Patrick pleaded and took a step towards Joe. “I didn’t mean… it was just supposed to be a harmless joke.”

“HARMLESS?” Joe yelled in return, face going red with anger and exasperation. “Are you fucking kidding me? You think _that_ was harmless?”  

“Joe I’m… I’m sorry.” Patrick tried again but apparently it was the wrong thing to say, because Joe stepped forward and swung his fist at Patrick’s face, effectively breaking his nose and inevitably giving him a black eye in the process. Patrick stumbled back and drew his hand to his face in an attempt to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Fuck you.” He spat and turned to Pete, fury in his eyes.

“How long have you known!?” He demanded and Pete took a hesitant step backwards, eyes a little wide.

“Um… well…” Pete mumbled and looked down at his own feet.

“Damn it Pete!” Joe yelled.

“Since February.” He admitted, and then fell back and onto his ass when Joe punched him in the face and stormed out of the apartment.

“Well that… that could have gone worse.” Pete said hesitantly as he stood up and touch a cheek experimentally, wincing when his finger came into contact with broken skin and blood.

“How?” Patrick asked in mild astonishment as he held kitchen towel to his face.

~~~

 Pete and Patrick were sitting in their living room after cleaning their selves up a few hours later, when Joe walked back into the apartment, looking sheepish.

“So…” He started carefully, sounding a little unsure of himself. “I may have overreacted slightly.”

“You think.” Pete mumbled to himself.

“I’m sorry I punched you.” He said to Patrick, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“No, I deserved it.” Patrick returned with a weak smile.

“I didn’t.” Pete grumbled to himself once again.

“If anything, Pete, I’m more pissed at you than Patrick.” Joe said bluntly and turned back to Patrick.

“How’s your face?” He asked, genuine concern filling his tone.

“I think you broke my nose.” Patrick replied sorrowfully.

“Oh.” Joe sounded apologetic again.

“I deserved it, look dude I really am sorry, I shouldn’t have kept fucking with you.” Patrick said, attempting to reconcile with Joe.

“I think we’re even now.” He said through a cautious smile and walked over to Pete and Patrick to sit down.

“So, why’d you pick me to fuck with?” He asked casually after a few minutes of awkward silence.

“Well… you broke my door, I was kinda pissed about that.” Patrick admitted, sounding mildly embarrassed at his own stubborn pettiness, but it served its cause, because Joe burst out laughing.

“You’re fucking ridiculous!” He choked out through hiccups and wheezes. “Such a Taurus.”

“Oh my God.” Patrick yelled but fell into laughter along with Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I've already got the next chapter of this written, I just have to edit it becasue I wrote it ages ago before I stopped drinking and was almost certainly drunk or hungover when I wrote it, but it has a cheeky little appearance from a certain boy that wishes people would just close his goddamn door... 
> 
> comments are always lovely because I need validation to survive.


	5. a band meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it was pointed out to me by the lovely WaterCat that I didn't write anything for Andy finding out, so here's him finding out. pretext to this is that after Joe stormed out of the apartment after punching Pete and Patrick he called Andy and ranted at him like a crazy person, whilst not actually explaining what happened properly.   
> I wrote this in like an hour and have only gone back over a few times so it probably reads a little rushed, but I wanted to get this out. hope you enjoy it!

 

“Pyrokinetic?” Andy asked doubtfully, chin rested on his palm as he sat in his bands apartment after an _emergency_ band meeting had been called.

“When you said it was Patrick fucking with you the whole time, I didn’t think you meant like…. _Him_ setting things on fire.”

“I thought I made that pretty clear when I phoned you yesterday.” Joe said, a hint of confusion airing into his voice as he spoke to the drummer.

“ _No_ … you just ranted nonsensically for an hour and a half.” Andy said slightly condescendingly to Joe, who looked offended by the accusation.  

“I… I did not do that.” He defended indignantly.

“Yeah, and you _totally_ didn’t break Patrick’s nose either.” Pete sighed with an eye roll, Patrick was still on his way home from work, late as ever, so the _meeting_ had started without him, even though he was the subject of the meeting.

“YOU BROKE PATRICK’S NOSE?” Andy yelled in exasperation at Joe’s behaviour.

“It’s fine.” Patrick said from the door he’d just walked through, having heard Andy yell from the stairwell to their apartment. He walked through the living room into the kitchen and put the two shopping bags he’d been carrying down onto the counter, and walked back into the living room with a can of soda. Joe had yet to see the true extent of damage he’d done to Patrick’s face, it’d looked bad the night before, red and starting to swell. But he hadn’t seen Patrick before he’d left for work, so had no idea how bad he looked.

“Jeeze.” Joe exclaimed when he saw Patrick’s face, dark mottled blue/gray/purple bruising lay under both his eyes and down into his cheeks, his nose itself had a yellow and purple tint to it where Joe’s knuckles had broken it. He looked like a softball had hit him in the face; Joe didn’t think he’d punched him that hard.  

“Boss made me work in the back ‘cause I look so gross.” Patrick laughed with a slight wince when he moved his face.

“So, band meeting.” Patrick started as he sat down and opened his can of soda. “Why did you call one?” He asked Pete, who had been the one that thought it necessary to have a meeting in the first place.

“I thought we should probably all be on the same page when it came to your whole… magical arsonist thing.” He explained with a grin, taking Patrick’s soda and drinking some.

“I’m not… I’m not an arsonist, Pete.” Patrick sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, what exactly is going on then, because I’m pretty confused.” Andy asked, the idea of Patrick being able to set things on fire with his mind was just, it was very improbable.

“All the weird shit about Joe being cursed, it was all me, I’ve been able to control fire since I was little, and… Joe pissed me off.” Patrick explained to Andy, he hadn’t actually really explained much to Joe and Pete either though, so maybe Pete calling a band meeting was a good idea after all.

“So you’re… _Pyrokinetic_?” Andy asked sceptically.

“Yeah.” Patrick confirmed casually with a slight shrug.

“Ok… prove it.” Andy said, still not 100% sure that he wasn’t just being fucked with.

“Alright.” Patrick affirmed and held his hand up laxly, letting his hand form a natural half cup shape with his fingers pointed towards the ceiling; and let soft flames out from his palm that curled around his fingers.

“Alright.” Andy echoed as he nodded his head subtly, looking awestruck as the flames reflected in his eyes.

“Cool.” Pete laughed and, rather stupidly, held his own hand over the flames. So naturally Patrick raised the temperature by say…. 2000 degrees. Pete yanked his hand back and held it to his chest protectively as the others laughed at him.

“What did you expect, dumbass?” Patrick laughed and let the flames fade as Pete glared half-heartedly.

“So, can you control all fire, or just the fire you make?” Andy asked curiously and lent back into his seat.

“All fire, well, I don’t know if I’d be able to control someone else’s, but I’ve never met anyone else that could control fire in the first place so...” Patrick explained. “But I mean, there’s got to be others that can.”

“And you’re like, impervious to heat and getting burnt?” Andy continued, apparently having a lot of questions on the subject.

“Not heat so much, I sweat a lot, but I can’t get burnt, I mean what sort of psychic would I be if I got burnt by my own fire?” He laughed, finding the idea rather amusing.

“Ok, noted.” Andy murmured. “What about like, how much you can control all in one go?”

“Don’t know, I’ve never tried anything to big in case I accidentally hurt someone or someone saw me, if I’m honest I’ve never really fancied getting carted off to Area 51.” He explained to his band.

“What would happen if I dumped a bucket of water on you?” Pete asked seriously.

“Well, I’d be really pissed at you… then probably punch you.” Patrick said with a roll of his eyes. “Do you think I’m like, allergic to water or something, Pete. Because you’ve literally seen me showering.” Patrick asked in exasperation at Pete, whilst Joe an Andy laughed at him and he looked sheepish.

The band meeting turned into more of hang out after that, pizza was ordered, things were set on fire, and lots of laughter filled the apartment. As well as smoke, they set the smoke detector off multiple times that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to WaterCat for pointing out that I didn't write anything for Andy, it's been a little challenging to write him into this because so far it's been mostly apartment days based and Andy didn't live with them, I also find him a generally hard person to write. but the next two chapters will have more of him, and he'll be a lot more present in the second part of this series which I'm still writing.


	6. Peach and Lime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Joe knows, who will Patrick fuck with?... the new kids on the scene is who.
> 
> I've had this written since before I even posted the first chapter, ugh, it's gone through a few changes here and there but it's pretty much the same as the first time I wrote it. It reads a little rushed but no matter how many times I rewrite it always reads that way, anyway, enjoy!!

 

Working with Brendon was a lot of fun, and a continuous source of amusement for the band. He only had a small part on 7 Minutes In Heaven, and no one would even notice the difference between his and Patrick’s voice, but bringing him out to LA to record gave Patrick the perfect opportunity to fuck with him. And since Pete had outed him he hadn’t had the chance to screw with anyone, but Brendon… Brendon was the perfect victim.

Though Patrick was really out of practice given that he hadn’t really fucked with anyone for the best part of a year, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of a way to screw with Brendon. He’d even asked the guys for ideas, but they’d all been too extravagant or dangerous, and Patrick liked neither of those things. He was stumped, no pun intended.

But then, as he was sitting in the studio waiting for a tech to fix some equipment Pete had broken, as if God himself had been watching over him, Brendon pulled out a cigarette. And seeming to forget that he was in LA and not Las Vegas, he lit it. Patrick smirked deviously and caught Pete’s eyes, raising his eyebrows and looking back to Brendon to tell Pete what he was about to do. Pete smirked in return and Patrick focused in on Brendon.

The entire cigarette burst into flames in Brendon’s hand, invoking a loud and startled shriek from the younger man as he flailed his arms and threw what remained of the cigarette into the air, only for it to crumble to hot embers in mid air.

“WHAT THE HELL?” He yelled with wide and shock eyes as he looked around the room, going pale.

“We’re in LA dude, can’t smoke those things inside.” Pete laughed slyly and looked back at Patrick, who was bent over laughing at Brendon’s perfect reaction.

“What the fuck?” He asked, this time calmer but still with a large amount of disbelief and confusion in his voice as he looked at Pete and Patrick.

“Found your next victim?” Andy asked from the doorway as he entered the room, glancing at Patrick only for him to laugh harder.

“What?” Brendon asked shakily, his wide puppy like eyes meeting Andy’s, only growing more confused and alarmed as Patrick and Pete continued to laugh.

“I’m so sorry.” Andy said sympathetically as he looked at Brendon sorrowfully. “Nothing can save you now.”

“What the fuck is happening?!” Brendon cried as he looked from Andy to Pete and Patrick, only for Andy to burst out laughing himself at Brendon’s outburst.

“Patrick is…” Pete wheezed through uncontrolled laughs as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Patrick is magic.”

Patrick barked out laughter at Pete’s explanation and almost choked on his own breath when he met Brendon’s eyes, wide and freaked out and too young and… Patrick suddenly felt very bad. His eyes softened in regret and he stopped laughing abruptly, not finding it very funny anymore, not at all.

“Brendon.” Patrick said sadly, voice heavy with apology. “I didn’t mean… I… I’m sorry dude, I didn’t mean to freak you out like that.”

Pete and Andy continued to laugh hysterically as Patrick tried to apologise, but with the two of them still laughing it was rather hard to do. So he elbowed Pete hard in the ribs to get his attention.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Pete exclaimed in offence only for Patrick to look pointedly at Brendon, who by now was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Andy shut the fuck up.” Pete said in monotone after Andy had continued to laugh lightly, not gauging the situation as quickly as Pete had.

“Oh.” He said abruptly and looked very apologetically at Brendon, whose face had gone from white to red and was now breathing perhaps a little too heavily for it to be considered normal for someone sitting down.

“Sorry dude.” He apologised but Brendon just continued to look panicked. Patrick stood up and walked towards him, but Brendon flinched away when he tried to put his hand on his shoulder.

“It was just a joke,” Patrick tried, voice careful and attempting to sound reassuring. “I didn’t mean to freak you out so bad, I just meant to make you jump.”

“You… you did that?” Brendon stuttered, shock still filling his voice.

“Yeah, it’s a thing a can do, but I… I didn’t mean to scare you, I… sorry.” Patrick sighed, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologise.

“If it makes you feel any better, he pulled shit like that on Joe for like two years.” Andy reconciled sympathetically.

“S- so… so you’re like psychic or something?” Brendon asked in the same stutter-y and panicked voice.

“Pyrokinetic.” Pete answered. “He can only control fire.” Patrick smiled carefully at Brendon in another attempt to reassure him, and by the way his face seemed to relax slightly Patrick could only assume that it was working.

“That’s… that’s kind of cool.” Brendon said meekly, but a small smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a panic attack.” Patrick apologised again, only for Brendon to smile up at him and shake his head.

“Nah, it _was_ kind of funny and… and I shouldn’t have been smoking in here anyway, right, LA has different smoking laws and shit?” Brendon laughed, it was hollow, still tinged with the panic attack, but he was smiling. Patrick laughed slightly awkwardly but smiled again.

“You never felt this guilty when you were fucking with Joe.” Andy accused out of nowhere, looking and sounding generally offended.

“He kept breaking my stuff, you know, like my bedroom door.” Patrick retorted, an air of exasperation in his voice. “I was just restoring balance to the universe.” Brendon laughed at that, an actual proper laugh opposed to the hollow one that it followed.

“So what you’re, you’re like, Fire Boy™?” Brendon asked, panic attack fading.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He smiled, happy in the fact that Brendon seemed to have gotten over the panic so quickly.

“That’s fucking awesome!” He exclaimed in excitement. “Omg, we have to fuck with Ryan!” He grinned, a mischievous smile creeping over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second til last chapter, and don't worry everyone that came here for MCR, you'll get some classic warped tour japes in the next chapter, which is the chapter that actually gave me the idea for this whole fic, but had to be the last chapter for some reason.
> 
> anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and really, I need your validation and approval through the form of comments and kudos to live, it's all that fuels me.


	7. Warped tour 2005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a pre-warning for those of you who like Bob Bryar for some odd reason, I don’t, so portrayed him as an asshole. Also no ships were implied here, it just reads that way a little.   
> It's finally here, the last chapter, thank you for everyone that's been reading :). my new job has been taking a lot of my time but I got this out, I also started drinking again so woooooo I'm a failure of a person, but it helped bring some of my muse back so hey, whatever. 
> 
> enjoy!

Patrick wasn’t quite sure how the night had developed into such stupidity, no, that wasn’t true, Patrick was pretty confident that it had a lot to do with alcohol and people to trying to impress each other.

The night had started out innocent enough, the guys had wondered over to the My Chem bus with plans of hanging out and making s’mores. My Chem’s bus had pulled up next to a burnt out fire pit that morning and they’d somehow convinced security to let them light another one that evening. And when Pete had mentioned them having everything needed for s’mores on their bus, Fall Out Boy were welcomed with open arms.

No one was really sure where Frank had acquired all the firewood from, no one really wanted to know either. But by the time the four of them rounded the bus the fire was roaring up into the air taking sparks and embers up with it. They’d spaced their camping chairs out evenly around the fire and quickly delved into storytelling and jokes and (for those that still drank) getting probably a little too drunk to be safely around a large fire.

The flames faded with the daylight and before too long everyone was happily making s’mores in the surrounding darkness that had enveloped them. But the s’mores hadn’t lasted as long as anyone had expected and soon enough the aforementioned _drunkenly trying to empress each other_ (mainly Pete and Mikey) had begun.

As the ratio of blood to alcohol began to sway further in favour of the latter, the stupidity level increased. What had started off as stupid but harmless bets and dares between the two bands quickly became a game of _how much do you bet I’ll do this really stupid thing._

And then…

“Five bucks says I can jump the fire pit.” Pete declared loudly and jumped to his feet only to stubble from the large amount of alcohol currently taking up residence within him.

“You’re on!” One of the My Chem boys had yelled and Pete took a running leap at the embers before anyone could stop him.  He cleared it with ease and a triumphant _“Fuck yeah!”_ as he collected his winnings, it didn’t stop there though.

Gerard, Andy, and Patrick sat back and watched, sometimes suggesting, all the stupid challenges made by the bands.

Such antics including:

Could Mikey do a summersault over the fire? No, no he couldn’t.

How high could everyone jump over the fire? Joe won $10 after a brief augment between him and Ray.

_Blindfolded fire long jump_ , in which they closed their eyes and ran at the fire, hoping that their drunk and vision deprived brains could judge the distance and they wouldn’t end up running into the fire, or jump to soon and land in it. That went about as well as you could imagine.

Could _Pete_ do a summersault over the fire? Almost, but still no.

And all the other stupid fireside activities that could have gotten them seriously hurt, but somehow didn’t.

All the while, Gerard, Andy, and Patrick sat back and watched. Gerard and Andy both being far to sober to partake in such stupid activities, and Patrick, while not judging, also wanted a much smaller police record/medical bill then the others.

That was, until…

“Two hundred bucks says that Patrick can stand in the fire bare foot!” Pete yelled in a declaration of confidence, knowing full well that Patrick could, but that the My Chem boys would think he was just being drunk and stupid. An easy $200 if anyone would take him up on it.

“There’s no fucking way!” Bob laughed patronisingly. “That’s gotta be like… a thousand degrees or something in there!”

“I’d say more like one thousand five hundred considering the colour of the charcoal and how long it’s been burning.” Patrick correctly nonchalantly as he lent back in his chair.

“You know what Pete, you’re fucking on.” Bob laughed arrogantly, his intoxicated brain aiding in his bad decision making. “This is gonna be the easiest two hundred bucks I’ve ever made.”

Patrick met Pete’s eyes for a half second, a silent conversation of _‘you’re an idiot’_ and _‘i’ll spilt the money’_ then _‘fine’,_ and Patrick started taking his shoes off.

“Dude, you can’t be serious!?” Gerard exclaimed as Patrick pulled off his socks and stuffed them into his shoes.

“Two hundred dollars is two hundred dollars.” Patrick shrugged casually, seemingly completely unbothered by Gerard’s concern.

“You’re gonna get third degree burns!” He cried out in distress.

“He’ll be fine!” Joe slurred through a laugh and wave of his hand, dismissing any concern felt by anyone else. Patrick just started to roll up his jeans, he was fire proof, but his clothes weren’t. Patrick moved to stand up but Gerard pushed him back down with his arm across his chest.

“Dude, two hundred dollars isn’t worth it, you’re going to seriously hurt yourself.” He warned in all seriousness, only for Patrick to shrug and stand up anyway. Gerard looked to Andy for some kind of assistance, pleading eyes boring into his.

“Not getting involved.” He said quietly and held the palms of his hands up in mock surrender.

“Patrick!” Gerard pleaded, but Patrick took no heed in his plea and walked over to the fire. The chairs were all set up in a crescent around one side of the fire, so Patrick walked over to the far side so he’d be facing everyone.

“Pete made the bet, you should be berating him.” Patrick sighed in a casual and slightly bored tone, and took a careful step into the glowing embers. The heat wouldn’t/couldn’t hurt him, but he didn’t want to get stabbed by a rusty nail or cut by broken glass. The charcoal hissed and crackled under his right foot as the dew from the grass quickly evaporated. He took another step into the fire, careful not to step on something sharp, then looked up with a bored but slightly smug expression on his face.

“You owe Pete two hundred dollars.” He said simply to Bob as he stood idly in the fire, small flames licking around his feet as he folded his arms over his chest.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Bob shouted in heated anger and shock, angry that he’d just lost so much money, and shocked that Patrick wasn’t on fire. Patrick just shrugged his shoulders.

“See… told ya it’d be fine.” Joe slurred and started to giggle and hiccup when he saw the looks on My Chem’s faces.

“Pay up dude!” Pete cheered, not an inch of malice in his voice as he stood up and stumbled over to Bob to collect his winnings.

“How are you doing that, Patrick?” Gerard asked, awe edging into his sharp tone of seriousness, Patrick shrugged, wriggling his toes into the scolding embers. _Cosy_ , he thought to himself.

“You’re on fire.” Andy sighed, sounding un-amused. “You spent the last of your holiday money on those jeans.” He sighed again, sounding more like a disappointed parent than the drummer of a shitty pop punk band.

“Wha-“ Patrick started but looked down at his feet, finding the rolled up cuffs of his jeans beginning to smoulder above the heat of the fire pit, not unlikely that Patrick himself was heating up to match the temperature of the embers either. His smugness deflated and he hoped out of the fire, feet instantly protesting against the cold and dewy grass.

“You’re dumb.” Andy deadpanned without looking up as Patrick frantically brushed off the embers that were forming on his jeans. He could just have… really expensive cut off jean shorts… _sigh_.

“Are you gonna fucking explain this!?” Frank demanded with a laugh, because what the _fuck_? “Are you a fucking witch or something?!”

“Last time I check,” Patrick started, sounding mildly patronizing as he walked back to his chair next to Gerard and started to put his socks back on. “Witches were pretty damn flammable.” He chuckled to himself as he felt Frank’s eyes glaring into him.

“Well ok then! So you’re not a witch, _cool_ , we ruled that one out, maybe now tell us how the fuck you did that!” He yelled in frustration as Patrick and the rest of Fall Out Boy started laughing at his expense, unable to hold back his own burst of laughter.

“A magician never reveals his tricks.” Patrick laughed slyly and received angry glares from all of My Chem as he tied his shoe laces back up.

“That wasn’t a magic trick! No way in hell was that a magic trick!” Bob yelled, real heat in his voice and eyes.

“Jeeze, chill out dude.” Joe slurred.

“Chill out? Chill _fucking_ out? I just lost $200 and your lead singer is a fucking wizard!” Bob yelled in anger, getting angrier as each minute went by.

“Striiiiike two!” Pete yelled in good humour as he stood next to Bob waiting for his winnings. “Maybe if you actually give me the money we’ll tell you.” He laughed in good spirits despite Bob’s sudden change in mood; _this guy is a shitty drunk_ Pete thought to himself.

“For fucks sake.” Bob spat but dug his wallet out of his pocket anyway, throughout the course of the night he’d won a lot of the bets, and thereby had lot cash to lose.

“Here!” He yelled in frustration after he’d briefly counted up the notes and stuffed them into Pete’s open hand.

“Thanks bro!” Pete cheered and bounded over to Patrick to hand over the $100 he’d promised in their little conversation of Cryptophasia.

“YOU FUCKING PLANNED THIS!” Bob roared and received slightly concerned looks from everyone.

“No, we didn’t, Pete’s just good at making bets.” Patrick said calmly as he folded the money and pushed it into his own pocket. Bob just glared daggers at Patrick before Gerard broke the silence.

“So,” He hesitated. “How did you actually do that?” Gerard asked cautiously, the curiosity not hidden in his voice.

“I’m Pyrokinetic.” Patrick explained softly, voice a sharp contrast to Bob’s heated anger.

“And what does that mean?” Mikey asked, confused curiosity opposed to his brother’s cautiousness.

“Like Telekinesis, but with fire.” Patrick explained through a small smile as Mikey’s face lit up along with Frank’s and Ray’s.

“That’s fucking sick!” Frank cheered in excitement.

“I don’t believe that, no way, that was just some dumb trick to get me out of two hundred bucks.” Bob accused grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking thoroughly pissed off.

“You literally just said that it couldn’t have been a trick.” Andy said, voice flat as he looked at Bob; he didn’t have time for such sudden and unnecessary negatively, especially from someone that, when sober, seemed to be a pretty nice dude.

“Well… whatever.” Bob spat and stood up briskly. “I’m going to bed.” He mumbled grumpily and stormed off onto the My Chem bus, like a petty child.

“Wow, life of the party over there.” Pete laughed as he counted out the dollar bills and shoved them into his back pocket.

“Dude,” Frank grinned at Patrick. “What else can you do?” He asked excitedly as he lent forward in his chair.

And so the night became a back and forth between My Chem and Patrick, with Patrick showing off and occasionally scaring the shit out everyone around the fire, and My Chem asking ridiculous and redundant questions about Patrick’s ability.

But Patrick couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, he tried to convince himself that it was just Bob watching from the window of his bus, but every time he looked up at the only window Bob could have been looking out of, the blinds were firmly shut.

By the end of the night he was sure that someone else was watching the group, he could feel someone’s eyes on him, could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. But he couldn’t for the life of him find where his watcher was, surely, if they could see Patrick then he should be able to them. But as much as he searched the darkness around the fire, he couldn’t find them.

It wasn’t until his band began their retreat to their bus that Patrick’s stalker made their self known, by grabbing Patrick and pinning him against a bus out of sight of his band.

“What the fu-?!” Patrick yelled in surprise but quickly had a hand pressed against his mouth to muffle his cry. A knife was pressed against his throat and suddenly he was too terrified to run or fight back.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid, not unless you give me a reason to.” His voice was a kind of soft that under other circumstances would be reassuring, but with the current ones Patrick found himself in, only served to sound ominous.

“Wh… what do you want?” Patrick’s voice trembled lightly after the hand was removed from in front of his mouth, his throat pressing against the knife painfully as he spoke.

“What are you? A witch, Fae, _demon_?” The man accused heatedly but managed to keep his voice flat and quiet, it was too dark for Patrick to pick out his facial features, and Patrick got the impression that that’s exactly what his aggressor wanted.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Patrick stuttered out, too confused and frightened to comprehend what the man was referring to.

“I saw the fire, young man, I know what you’re capable of, and I want to know _how_.”

“I just… I just do it, I don’t know… I’ve just always been able to do it…” Patrick choked out over the lump in his throat. “Please don’t kill me, I’m just a dumb kid, please, I haven’t done anything.” Patrick begged the unknown man.

“I’m not-“ The man paused, a new tone of slight regret creeping into his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said as he stepped back from Patrick and lifted the knife from his throat.

“What’s your name?” He looked down at Patrick, who was still relatively frozen in fear, with a sad and apologetic expression now on his face.

 “Patrick.” Patrick said quietly, staring up at the man whom he could now make out some features of. Short cropped thin hair, day old stubble, glasses, and a calm face filled with smile lines. Most notable though, was his black shirt, crucifix, and clerical collar.

“My name is Father Andrew, Patrick; I’m a Priest and occasionally investigate reports of the supernatural, I used to be a hunter before I joined the Church. I didn’t come here for you, don’t worry, but I had to make sure you weren’t a threat to people when I saw the fire. Sorry I frightened you.” Father Andrew explained softly.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, honest to God, I’d never.” He rushed out frantically.

“No, I know, if you were going to you would have attacked me in self-defence, which you didn’t. I misjudged the situation, sorry.” Father Andrew apologised and brushed some dust off Patrick’s shoulder as he stepped away from the bus he’d been pinned against.

“If you didn’t come for me, who did you come for?” Patrick asked, fear creeping back into his voice as he looked around, he knew there must be other things out there, but had never really given it much thought. Now though, every possibility of what could be lurking in the darkness was flying through his mind.

“Possible werewolf in one of the bands you’re touring with, I’m assuming you’re in a band, it was wrong though, just speculation in a chat room online. Nothing to worry about.” He explained to Patrick and took a further step back.

“Werewolves exist?” Patrick asked, amazed as well as freaked out by the concept.

“Along with everything else that goes bump in the night, yes, what are you exactly, you should know about these things if you have some magic abilities yourself.” The Priest asked Patrick curiously.

“I… I think I’m Pyrokinetic, that’s what my mom said anyway, she said I had an aunt that could do the same thing but… I’ve never met anyone else like me, not that I know of anyway.” Patrick answered shyly, still unsure of the man’s motives; Father Andrew looked down at him and tilted his head in contemplation.

“Huuum, ok, that adds up… here’s what I’m going to do Patrick, I’m going to let you go, you seem like a good kid because honestly, if you’d have done anything of note in the past I’m sure one of my associates would have picked up on it. I’m going to give you my contact details so if you ever get into trouble, and with an ability such as yours I’m sure you will, you can get in touch and I can help out, ok?” The Priest said with a reassuring tone in his voice and gentle smile on his face, Patrick nodded, although unsure.

“Why would you want to help me, you said you were a hunter, whatever that means.” Patrick asked as the Priest pulled out a card from his blazer pocket and handed it to Patrick.

“I used to be a hunter, my whole family was, but now I just investigate the odd report when no one else can, the life wasn’t for me. But hunters don’t just senselessly kill anything that isn’t strictly human, they stop the dangerous individuals, the actual monsters. Just because someone isn’t entirely human doesn’t automatically make them a monster, Patrick, it’s their actions and choices that turn them into that. As a Priest, it’s my duty to help and aid people, to stop them turning into something that a hunter would have to kill. Like I said, if you ever need help, anything at all, those are my details.” Father Andrew said and nodded to the card in Patrick’s hand.

“I have a small congregation in LA, feel free stop by if you’re ever in the area.” He smiled.

“YO PATRICK!” Joe yelled from the direction he’d been walking before the Priest had grabbed him.

“YOU FALL IN A HOLE OR SOMETHING?” He yelled again as he rounded the corner of the bus and came face to face with a very confused looking Patrick, still holding the Priest’s business card.

“I was just talking to-“ Patrick cut himself off as he looked up to find the Priest had vanished back into the shadows.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m good.” Patrick hummed and joined Joe back in their walk to the bus. Joe wouldn’t even remember it in the morning anyway, it really didn’t matter.

_Monster hunting Priests?_ Patrick thought to himself as he finally climbed into his bunk that night. _What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information?_

~End~

~or is it?~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, the end of this work. The actual story that this is part of is going to be longer than this and I won't be posting it until it's finished, so I have no idea when that will be. It's got a much darker theme to it and focuses around vampires (because it's not like there are enough vampire fob fics on this website already lol) and not magic, it's also set in around May 2017 so it's a very large jump from this work. But this work was just a bit of fun, and it was kinda an accident that it ended up being so long. The last chapter was the first bit I started writing and the inspiration for the whole work, but it took me way to long to get this finished. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you liked this and comments and Kudos would be lovely. 
> 
> And a fun little fact for you, Bob Bryar quit music and is now a sad lonely hate filled real estate agent living in the woods with his guns in Texas somewhere. And as far as I'm aware Patrick blocked him on twitter so isn't that just a show of his character, if Patrick Stump doesn't like you then you must be a professional asshole.  
> anyway, have a nice day and stay tuned for other works from me.


End file.
